


2AM

by satanic_panic



Category: The Machinist (2004)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Insomnia, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: It's two o'clock in the morning, the only people who are awake are either sad, in love, overthinking life, or unable to sleep; things are getting bad again for you, but you know there's one soul who's always awake and trustworthy.





	2AM

Things were getting bad again. So bad, that you had ended up grabbing a razor, and slicing up your own skin, all up your wrist and arm, the stinging sensation a reminder that, no, you weren't completely numb; you knew things had been getting bad the second you started losing your will and motivation and energy to eat and sleep, two days without a solid meal, two days without any sleep. 

Wincing as you reached out to your phone, you grabbed it, and unlocked it to check the time. Two o'clock in the morning. The only people who were awake at this hour were either sad, in love, overthinking life, or unable to sleep; you were isolated... until you remembered that there was one person you could always count on to be awake, to be up and trustworthy enough to talk to about the problems in your mind. 

Trevor Reznik. 

You quickly found his number amongst your contacts, and dropped him a text to ask if he was busy; it only took him a matter of seconds to reply to tell you that he wasn't, so you asked if you could go over to his place for a little while, something he agreed to almost immediately. 

* * *

The second the door opened, you fell forwards, clutching onto Trevor and breaking down, sobbing and clinging onto his shirt as his thin arms wrapped around you tightly as he did nothing but hold you; he had seen you in such a state many times, and knew how to handle it, how to handle your breakdowns easily. He rubbed your back, gently leading you to his sofa before letting you sit on his lap once he had sat down on the sofa, he looked up at you with a frown when you pulled away, sniffling and still crying, but doing your best to stop it and prevent it from showing. 

"It's gotten bad again, Trev," your voice was weak and quiet. "I... I..."

Trevor swallowed thickly, holding your hips as you stayed firmly sat on his lap, unwilling to move - not that he would ever want you to. "Did you relapse?" When you didn't answer, he sighed, and shook his head. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, (y/n)... show me."

You rolled up your sleeve, showing him the cuts that were deep enough to bleed and maybe scab over for a day or two, but not enough to scar, thankfully. "I'm sorry."

He sighed again, bringing you closer and kissing your forehead. "Don't. Don't apologise. Just... fuck it, why don't you move in with me?"

You furrowed your brows as you cuddled up close. "Why? So you can keep a constant eye on me?"

Trevor nodded. "More or less."

"I'll think about it."


End file.
